


Temptation

by Kat_The_Kitkat



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 18:25:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19340092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_The_Kitkat/pseuds/Kat_The_Kitkat
Summary: Aziraphale gives into some temptation





	Temptation

It wasn’t a particularly special day by any and all accounts, it was cloudy, as it often was, and there was only a faint breeze. Something cool but not cold. The lighter of the two would argue though, that every day was special in some way. And usually, Crowley would say this was a load of shit, normally. But, for all it’s averageness, today was not a normal day. The pair was unusual, but that wasn’t what made the day not-normal, or irregular. A demon sat among old books in a shop that did not belong to him, but rather to his compartiate, an angel. What did make the day unusual though, was that today was the day an angel caves to the temptation of his devilish counterpart. 

“Do I tempt you, Angel?” The demon quips, smug as he lounges over a chaise lounge, the pair had been drinking, but weren’t drunk as of right now. Not that it would have really mattered anyways, with their shared ability to spontaneously sober. The angel, Aziraphael, is a bit flushed. Face just slightly pink from the alcohol he’d indulged in, this corporeal form had everything a human body had. Blood and organs, and it reacted to alcohol the way most human bodies did- his pale features flushing a bit. But they flush a few shades deeper for a reason that’s entirely not caused by the alcohol. “Crowley,” He says, stiff as he tries to divert the conversation before it goes further down this rabbit hole.

Their.. Affections for one another weren’t something new by any means. “Aziraphael,” The demon mocks, rolling serpentine eyes as he sits up a bit, a glass of fine wine saved from the early 1900s perched elegantly in his slender fingers. He’s tired of playing this game- of flirting and receiving nothing but rigid refusal to indulge. It wasn’t like anyone would know, except maybe Him, but who said that this- this relationship- wasn’t part of His great plan? Crowley would never, never understand the Angel’s loyalty to Him when he’s so.. Obscure. Hard even for the angels that serve him to decipher. “Azi,” He says, setting his wine down. “Zira,” his expression softens just a touch- Aziraphale was beautiful, as all angels were, he had an ethereal glow about him, and Crowley could sees stars in his skin, see a universe of hope and promise and he wanted, as all demons want, but Crowley’s sort of want was different. Crowley wishes to indulge- to taste the heavens he was cast from in the form of the man before him. Aziraphale’s hair is a soft sort of white, and he’s robed in creams and whites, soft pastel shades of blues with occasional accents of brown. He’s beautiful, and Crowley has been after him from the beginning. This sort of persistence though, it was different than the usual lust demons felt. It was.. Softer. He found he was just as satisfied simply sitting near the angel as he indulged in earthly cuisine or read, and some part of him felt a little less rotten and broken when the soft blue eyes of his divine counterpart looked upon his ugly form. 

Aziraphale looked upon him like a lover would look upon their partner, like a man admiring the gifts of heaven. Aziraphale looked at him like he was not ugly, like he’d not fallen. Like he wasn’t broken. And that, quite literally, meant worlds to the serpent. 

The demon opens his mouth to speak up again, but is interrupted by the man before him- “Yes,” The angel says. “You tempt me, Crowley.” The admission doesn’t shock the demon per say, but it certainly catches him a bit off guard. Centuries, millennia, he’s tempted. Waited to hear some sort of admission, some sort of confession, and as today was a perfectly normal, average day, Crowley had no reason to suspect that the admission would come on this day. 

“Angel,” he says, soft. He’s going to say more, but in a sudden bout of uncharacteristic frustration, the angel spins around on his heel. Blinking, stunned, the serpent stares as Aziraphale wipes-- 

He wipes frustrated tears from his eyes, frantically, almost, and pinches at his nose. They’re not that large or noticeable, but still, they’re there. Making an angel cry was usually something to encourage among his breed of immortal, but seeing Aziraphale tear up tears him apart. “I think you should leave, Crowley.” The confession hadn’t gone down exactly as he thought it would- dreamed, rather, but it had happened. Crowley gets to his feet, stepping across the modest, cluttered bookshop to the angel he’s been with since Eden, if not longer. “Angel,” he says, soft and gentle with a type of grace he had long ago cast away. He’d fallen, why retain the grace and softness of an angel? The demon reaches- softly he takes Aziraphale’s hands, moving them away from his face. His eyes refuse to meet his big yellow ones, but that’s alright. Gently, the serpent presses his lips against the bridge of the holy one’s nose, and that, that’s enough. He suspects there’s some sort of fear on Aziraphale’s end, fear that should he give himself up to a demon that the feelings wouldn’t be returned. That, like everything with demons, it was just a game to be won. That he’d risk falling himself, that he’d sin for no reason. But Crowley doesn’t think the thing between them was sinful. He thinks it’s beautiful, that it’s one of the last few beautiful things he has. 

Slender hands raise again, and this time they cup the holy being’s features. His face fits into his hands perfectly, like two gears meshing together or two puzzle pieces that had been lost for an eternity, finally reuniting. And the angel crumbles, he lifts his face and surges forward with a courage that would fade if he thought about it too long- their lips mingle the same way, and Crowley blinks owlishly, a bit stunned by the action. 

Again, the angel takes action. Which, I feel should be mentioned, is a rather bold thing for an angel to do. Actions weren’t inherently good or bad, but this sort of action was most certainly bad, if judged by those who supervised over him. For Crowley though, they’re incredible and amazing and, funny enough, it’s a little miracle. Quite possibly the last he’d get to experience, as demons weren’t really in the miracle trade. Aziraphale pushes him back onto the lounge, walking with him, he seems hesitant for just a moment. His hands wring the hem of his vest, his jacket having been shed long ago. But then, he seems to steel himself, and once again surprising the demon, he climbs into his lap. 

Their lips meet again, and an eternity of waiting is finally over. The demon quickly melts, soft only towards the angel now seated in his lap- he kisses him feverishly, capturing his lips again and again his hands settle on the holy being’s waist, only holding him. The touch doesn’t remain chaste for long- his fingers slip under the hem of his vest and he huffs, annoyed by the presence of an undershirt that’s tucked into neat white pants. The angel has the nerve to snicker, fully aware of what had caused the huff, and presses close for another kiss, but this one, this one is open mouthed and he sheepishly presses his tongue against Crowley’s lips. The demon lets him in, quickly forgetting about the fact he cannot feel skin just yet. Fingers reach, tangle in the serpent’s red hair- and Crowley cannot help but sigh again, pleased, he cocks his head to the side and kisses the angel who loved him. They kiss, not needing to break for air, Crowley allows Aziraphale to take the lead, not wishing to push him too far out of his comfort zone, he finds a more plump body pressing closer to his own lanky, boney form. Aziraphale, perhaps having picked up a few sinful habits from his dear demon, shyly rolls his hips. Crowley sucks a sharp breath in through his teeth, hands moving to Aziraphale’s hips to still him. “Angel,” he warns, swallowing to look up at him. But his darling angel only smiles a bit. “If I’m to fraternize with the enemy,” he wets his lips, tasting things an angel should not taste. He understands what was so tempting about temptation- it was addictive and he wants more, surging forward again the angel adjusts himself atop Crowley’s lap, kissing him as he rolls his hips again. 

Things quickly progress, the demon aching, wanting every inch but reluctantly settling for what was offered to him. He sees flattering thighs, sees that Aziraphale had made his corporeal body with stretch marks adorning his hips, and he’s intoxicated. Sex itself wasn’t sinful- and the act they were committing was most certainly not born purely from lust, no, it was warmer. Gentle and Crowley realizes a bit too late the name for the emotion he feels is not lust, as it should be for a demon like him. It’s love. And it swells in his chest and flows through his limbs to his fingertips that shake just slightly.

Gender wasn’t really something that applied to ethereal beings like angels and demons, but Crowley bore the body of a traditional man, with a moderately sized dick placed between his legs. Aziraphale though, had taken a different approach. Just as much a man as Crowley, he’d chosen the opposite genitalia, preferring it. It’s cute, Crowley thinks. He swallows thickly, fingers exploring the exposed lower half, he presses them against Aziraphale’s sex, chuckling a bit at how easily his slender fingers slip into his wet entrance. The angel jerks a bit, unused to the feeling but loving it regardless. Loving it solely because it was Crowley. Crowley admires the way his breath hitches, the way he twitches and the way his thighs jerk a bit, smiling as he kisses the angel again. Crowley’s fingers work him open, stretching him just to be courteous, he stares, star struck and his chest feels so hot- heart burning with a type of protectiveness, a type of affection that he hasn’t felt before. “Crowley,” The angel whines, and the demon chuckles again. “Alright Love,” 

Their position shifts just slightly, and the pair sigh in pleasure as one is engulfed and the other receives, they mingle again in a way that’s new and unheard of. A demon, a vile being of hate and sin, and an angel, a divine being of beauty and love, of grace. They rock together, gasping, their breath mingles and their lips fumble to kiss whatever they can reach. It’s beautiful, Crowley feels beautiful. The love he feels coming from his angelic partner warm him to the core, exposing bits of him that aren’t black and rotten. Parts that are worthy of love and compassion, parts that crave it. The serpent blinks, tears dripping from his lashes. His angel though, quick as ever to notice when he’s distraught, kisses his cheeks and holds him close. Shhing him with gentle, heavenly coos. “I love you,” He breathes. And Crowley cries, nodding its his turn to rush forward, pulling the angel flush against him he pushes his nose into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, crying from the warmth and love he feels, things he’d felt he didn’t deserve to feel after betraying Heaven.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably write a more in depth version of the sex and add it as another chapter


End file.
